


How To Survive A Flight To Australia

by softiejace



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Airports, Anxiety, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Phan Fluff, TATINOF, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-08-14 20:29:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8027899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softiejace/pseuds/softiejace
Summary: inspired by “will Dan and Phil survive Australia?” In which Dan suffers through horror in the form of planes, noise, and other people. But hey, at least he’s in it with Phil...initially posted on tumblr. Excerpt: “Just try to actually sleep this time,” Phil suggests.“I don’t think you understand that I did try, Phil, it’s just that a baby two rows behind us kept screaming like it was being murdered.”“I didn’t hear anything.”“Yeah, well, you’re fucking deaf.”





	How To Survive A Flight To Australia

**Author's Note:**

> warnings: mentions of anxiety, mentions of airplanes, swearing and too many flight metaphors (you’re welcome)
> 
> EDIT: after having seen dan's video https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I242wpPRAaw i'll say that my version of their flight was quite a bit less dramatic than the actual happenings o h my   
> never underestimate dan howell's talent for trouble haha

Dan aches to lean his head on Phil’s shoulder.

He resists. Instead he shifts his weight onto his right leg, stifling a whimper when his knee cracks uncomfortably.

They’re in line for the passport control, having just gotten off a plane to Hong Kong about two hours ago. A 12 hour flight, and another one of that duration lies ahead of them.

The prospect makes Dan want to cry. His legs and back are hurting from the cramped space and the too-small seat on the Asian airline company’s plane, and he’s anxious and gross and _so tired._

Phil stood next to him seems impossibly unbothered by the impending horror.

His glasses are askew on his nose, his t-shirt is wrinkled but probably less disgustingly sticky than Dan’s sweatshirt (“It might be chilly on the plane, Phil, and unlike you I don’t want to freeze to death before we even get there”), and he’s playing angry birds on his phone.

 _Of course_ he is. He’s such a fucking child.

Except he isn’t, because unlike Dan he kept his cool earlier at the ticket booth when things took longer than expected and people in the queue started standing on their toes to stare at them.

Because Phil took care of stuff like an adult while Dan was standing next to him, back turned to the crowd hoping and praying they could just get away.

Fed up and worn out, his hair curling and his anxiety escalating amid all those fucking people, and - _hi yes I_ am _danisnotonfire_ of course _you can have a selfie that’s a nice shirt have a great day bye!_ \- he felt like he was going to fucking die right then and there.

It was Phil who got them out of there by smiling and politely declining and manoeuvring them through halls and doors and stairways when Dan had lost track.

Dan envies him.

No; he loves him.

Sometimes so much that it physically hurts to be unable to show it.

The tune for a failed level plays, and Phil glances up to find Dan staring.

“Fucking loser,” Dan mutters.

_I love you, idiot._

Phil blinks and pushes up his glasses, smiling thinly. “You okay?”

_I love you, too._

For a second he contemplates saying yes, but he’s just too _done_ and this is _Phil_ and he’s used to Dan complaining.

“Everything hurts and if there were a window here I’d jump out of it; why do you ask?” he grumbles as passive aggressively as he can muster.

They move along in the queue.

Phil draws his eyebrows together. “You need an aspirin, bear?”

 _Bear_. _I might never need anything else than you calling me that_ , thinks the mushier side of Dan, but out loud he says, “I need a bath and 14 hours of sleep, not a painkiller, Phil.”

Phil grimaces sympathetically and presses “Try again” on his phone.

Dan feels the urge to groan.

He resists.

 

An endless seven minutes later they’re finally second in line. Dan prepares to trudge forward when Phil suddenly stops dead in his tracks and Dan very nearly runs into him.

There’s a sinking feeling in Dan’s stomach quite similar to the one he got when their plane took off.

“What?”

Phil’s pulled his backpack down from one shoulder to riffle through its contents. “My pass.”

Dan breathes out through his teeth. “Phil Lester, _don’t_ tell me you’ve lost your boarding pass.”

He can feel the annoyed stares like daggers in his back.

Phil’s arm has disappeared almost up to the elbow in his backpack.

“No, not my ticket; my passport.”

Dan wants to shout. Instead he hisses. “You literally just had it, where the fuck could you have put -”

Phil’s face lights up. He pulls his hand out of his backpack, empty except for some gum wrappers. Then he pats his back pockets. “I put it here!”

And indeed he produces the red booklet from one of his pockets.

Dan rolls his eyes. “Don’t shock me like that, you twat.”

Phil sticks his tongue out at him.

Then he moves to show an officer his papers.

Dan wonders how the hell they’ve survived even this far.

 

Dan slumps down further in his seat, feeling the plastic press into his back.

They’re in the waiting area for their flight to Australia and the woman behind them won’t stop talking rapidly to her husband. At least it’s in Chinese so Dan doesn’t have to actually listen to her life story.

But it’s exhausting all the same. He wants quiet. He wants his bed at home. He wants Phil.

Phil’s sat next to him.

“I spy something red.”

“No.”

“Come on, Dan.”

“Fuck you.”

“Dan!” Phil nudges him, his pointy elbow poking Dan’s side. He recoils.

“There are _children_ here.”

Dan huffs. “I don’t fucking care. If they can spend 12 hours consecutively crying on a plane, then I can swear around them.”

Phil puts his hand on Dan’s knee.

The old woman across from them looks down at it, then up at Phil’s face.

He pulls it back.

Dan’s entire body feels tense. At least there are no potential fans in their proximity.

“Just try to actually sleep this time,” Phil suggests.

“I don’t think you understand that I _did_ try, Phil, it’s just that a baby two rows behind us kept screaming like it was being murdered.”

“I didn’t hear anything.”

“Yeah, well, you’re fucking deaf.”

He’s breathing faster now, and he’s fully aware that he’s about to talk himself into a fit, but he doesn’t have the restraint nor the energy to hold back.

“If i have to sit through just one more fucking hour of screaming I’m going to join in. I’m serious, Phil, I’m so fucking sick of this flying crap, I’m too tall for this shit. Couldn’t we get a hotel room for just one night in between the flights to give my body some bloody rest? No, because that would _cost us_ and we want to be there _ahead of schedule_. Do you know how many fucks i give about your stupid fucking schedu-”

“Dan.”

_“What-”_

Phil’s fingers are suddenly on his chin, and then his lips are on Dan’s.

Dan’s stomach does the same as before, only this time it feels like a skydiver taking a jump, and a rushing starts in his ears. This isn’t the place. He’s 100% sure the old woman is gawking at them right now. Oh god, what if she’s someone’s grandma and she’s taking photos -

A low noise of protest escapes Dan before he pulls away just a bit, just as much as he can force himself to, and squeaks _“Phil”_.

But Phil keeps his eyes closed and pecks his lips again very sweet and slow, and Dan simply can’t resist.

He sighs softly and melts against Phil’s mouth, his eye lids slipping closed. Phil’s hand is firm and warm on his jaw and his tongue brushes against Dan’s bottom lip, making his insides flutter like a bird getting sucked into a plane’s turbine.

Nevermind that old woman; let her stare.

He grins against Phil’s mouth.

Right at that moment, their boarding group is called up.

Of course.

Phil pulls away, keeping his forehead pressed against Dan’s long enough to say, “relax, ok?”

Then he moves to pick up his backpack. Dan follows his lead, feeling suddenly quite a lot lighter. Almost as light as though he could fly.

Well, he’s about to.

“You just kissed me at a public airport,” he murmurs while tying his jacket around his waist, “and you’re asking me to relax?”

Phil shoulders his backpack. “Come on.”

Dan shakes his head, but follows without protest.

When they stand in line, Dan doesn’t look at him; he just runs his fingers up Phil’s arm to curl around his biceps.

“You’re incredible, Phil Lester,” he says as softly as a breath.

Phil keeps staring straight ahead, but bumps his hip into Dan’s.

“Some even call me amazing.”

Before the flight attendant beckons them forward, Dan allows himself two things: he groans and lets his head sink onto Phil’s shoulder.

He may hate planes and 12 hour flights, but as long as Phil is next to him, Dan knows he’ll make it through.


End file.
